


The Broken Lion of Faerghus

by okikaguslut



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okikaguslut/pseuds/okikaguslut
Summary: Darkness engulfed her senses, dousing them in a familiar coldness that she couldn’t quite place. The brazen voice that cut through the dark was equally familiar.Your body is awake. Your eyes must open now, and you must find the strength to stand upon those legs of yours.A short postskip Dimileth blurb about the Blue Lions that I may continue if I'm feeling motivated enough... just needed an outlet for all of my FE3H feels... :<
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	The Broken Lion of Faerghus

Darkness engulfed her senses, dousing them in a familiar coldness that she couldn’t quite place. The brazen voice that cut through the dark was equally familiar.

_Your body is awake. Your eyes must open now, and you must find the strength to stand upon those legs of yours._

_Like so much rain, a pool of blood has fallen to the ground… As spears and arrows pierce the earth, it weeps. And even now… it weeps. In order to survive, they kill. And so, the people of this world are lost in an abyss of suffering. They weep as well._

_The only one who truly knows the nature of such things is I… Or rather, you._

Like the thick fog that had blanketed the Gaspard region many moons ago, her eyelids felt heavy with the dull haze of sleep. But she feared if she slept any longer, she wouldn’t wake again, and though she couldn’t make out the exact words the voice in her head was angrily spewing, she could feel something stirring inside like water being pulled out of a deep underground well.

When her eyes fluttered open, she was paralyzed with shock, coming from a state of absolute nothingness to sensory overload — the brackish taste of river water in her mouth, the turbulent roar of the river’s white rapids, and the damp press of uneven inland pebbles against her back. She was completely caught off guard when a lone villager made his presence known by asking loudly, “Hey! A-are you awake?”

Byleth jolted up immediately and stumbled down to one knee; her ankles were wobbly and weak. She had half a mind to shake off the worried villager’s hand, but reluctantly accepted the offer of physical support. Using his arm, she steadied herself. Even speaking proved to be difficult; her throat scratched like sandpaper. “…W-where am I?”

“We’re in a village at the base of the monastery. What are you doing in a place like this? I honestly didn’t expect to find someone floating away down the river.”

Hell, if she could answer that question herself, she wouldn’t be wasting time on the conversation in the first place. “I... don't know. I need to return. To the Church of Seiros… to Garreg Mach.”

“Huh? You don’t know? The Church of Seiros isn’t there anymore, though there have been some folks still living there in the five years since… Well, you know. Anyway, I’ve heard some thieves have been spotted around those parts these days.”

“ _Five years?_ ” Byleth repeated incredulously, though she knew she heard him correctly the first time.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Um, are you feeling all right? You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you? It’s the Ethereal Moon of the year 1185. It’s been nearly five years since the monastery fell. Tomorrow was supposed to be the millennium festival, but who’s got time to think about things like that? With the war and the archbishop still missing and all…”

Her head was spinning from a combination of hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and disbelief. Five years had passed, just like that. She was starting to piece together the broken fragments of her distant memory: the Imperial army, under Edelgard’s control, storming the front lines of Garreg Mach and invading the monastery in a whirlwind of chaos, bloodshed, and war. Urgency filled her veins as she turned away from the man.

He shouted, “Hey! Slow down, will ya? Where do you think you’re going?”

Byleth replied calmly, “The monastery.”

“Are you crazy?! I told ya! They say thieves are running amok up there, and there’s plenty of other dangers too. I heard a rumour that Imperial troops went up there to investigate and got slaughtered. Every last one! Just forget about going anywhere near the monastery.”

She paused for a moment, allowing the faces of her students to flash into her mind. Dedue, Annette, Ashe, Mercedes, Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, and…

Byleth’s voice hardened. “My students are waiting for me.”

* * *

It was easy to retrace her steps back to Garreg Mach. All she had to do was follow the trail of Imperial corpses. Fresh corpses too, by the looks of it. The stench of death was thick and penetrated the air for miles. Even after five years, it seemed like the senseless killing wasn’t about to slow down any time soon. Byleth steeled herself when she arrived at the front gates of the monastery. The cheerful Seiros guard that had greeted her daily wasn’t there to report to her like usual, nor was any living soul for that matter. It was completely abandoned, save for a few squawking ravens that were picking at corpses like vultures feasting on carrion.

Byleth trudged on, past the ghost of the marketplace she often frequented with Felix and Ingrid, comparing different types of steel at the armoury and debating over which one performed better in battle. She walked past the empty courtyard with a sad frown — it was Sylvain’s favourite place to openly court female students in public, and while she’d wasted many hours lecturing the skirt-chaser on his womanizing habits, she strangely missed their after school sessions now. She walked past the neglected greenhouse, littered with dead plants and flowers that would’ve distressed any green thumb, even a man as stoic and composed as Dedue. She walked past the deserted dining hall, once filled with the exuberant chatter and laughter of students — only _if_ Ashe managed to prevent Annette from blowing anything up during kitchen duty. She eventually arrived at the cathedral, now a shell of its former glory. A section of the roof had completely caved in, encasing the sanctuary underneath a massive pile of rubble and debris. The mere sight would’ve brought a tear to Mercedes’ eyes.

She didn’t know if any of her students were still here, let alone _alive._ She didn’t even know where to start looking.

Soon, Byleth found herself meandering through the broken cobblestone paths outside of the cathedral. They would lead her straight to the goddess tower. She didn’t exactly know _why_ she wanted to go there — perhaps for a better aerial view of the monastery grounds? Whatever the reason, she was instinctively drawn to it. But, instead of finding a quiet place to sort out her thoughts, she found more Imperial soldiers, skewered and butchered in manners that were… _excessive_ , to say the least. She stepped over countless bodies in her attempt to ascend the stairs. Never one to be squeamish in battle (she’d seen her fair share of death as a mercenary after all), she felt her blood run cold at the thought of what, or who, was waiting for her at the landing of the stairs.

An old friend?

A new foe?

Her eyes made out a shadowy figure hunched over at the furthest end of the tower, holding onto a lance that, upon further inspection, looked like… Areadbhar? Byleth stepped out into the open light, sun basking her body in a warm glow that didn’t do much to stop the chill spreading across her skin. She wanted to call out to him, but his name caught in her throat. He looked so different too, what with that uncharacteristically disheveled hair, blood-stained clothing, and eyepatch.At a loss for words, Byleth extended a hand to him, hoping, no, _praying_ that he’d take it with his usual cordial smile.

Dimitri glanced up with a cold passiveness that seemed like he was looking _through_ her, rather than _at_ her. _“_ I should’ve known,” he mumbled gruffly, “that one day… you would be haunting me as well.”

Byleth withdrew her hand dejectedly when Dimitri slapped it away with an irritated grunt. She took a cautious step backwards when he finally rose to his full height, surprising her with how much he’d grown in the last five years. 

“What must I do to be rid of you?” His eyes shifted around the room, as if he were talking to more than an audience of one. “I will kill that woman, I swear it. Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes!”

Byleth blinked. He seriously thought she was nothing more than a ghost. An unholy apparition. A trick of the mind. It took all of her courage to muster her next words, “Everything will be okay. I’m here now.”

The prince uttered a strained gasp of surprise, like someone had just pulled off the figurative wool obscuring his eyes. “You… It can’t be…You’re alive?” His expression faded from initial shock to unbridled animosity. “If that is the case… that can only mean you are another Imperial spy. Did you come here to kill me? Answer the question.”

She didn’t miss the way his hand tightened around Areadbhar. Would he really kill her where she stood, right here and now? Shaking her head, she replied hastily, “Of course not.” But, before she could elaborate any further, he shoved past her.

Her heart sank. She’d failed her students by allowing this to happen, and while she was away taking a glorified nap, her students - or what remained of them - were suffering in this new era of war, lost and unguided. When they needed her the most, she disappeared. And now, she was scared that the damage done was irreversible.


End file.
